


you make it better

by sapphirestylan



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Blow Jobs, M/M, Shotgunning, that's about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-03-06 15:35:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18853957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphirestylan/pseuds/sapphirestylan
Summary: based on the song 'i don't care' by justin bieber and ed sheeran





	you make it better

**Author's Note:**

> yeah this is a load of shit sorry
> 
> (title's from the song)

Harry’s been out of the house for five minutes and he’s already regretting wearing jeans with every fiber of his being. The heat of summer is finishing out August with a vengeance, and really it’s his own fault, but he’d rather not go at all than wear shorts with this shirt. 

He shoots another quick text to Niall as he hops up the front steps of the frat, fingertips leaving sweaty smudges on the glass as he does so. 

_ if you’re any later liam’s gonna kill you!!! xx _

Half dressed girls and shirtless, sweaty boys are already spilling out onto the front lawn of Alpha Tau Omega, the largest frat house on campus and the site of Liam’s 21st birthday party. Harry feels strangely alienated as he hops up the front steps, glancing around at people whose faces he can’t remember ever having seen in his life. It feels like Liam’s invited the whole damn school. 

His phone buzzes just as he lets himself in the house, Liam’s birthday gift swinging from his fingers. 

_ hahaha he wudnt harm a hair on my head _

Harry grins down at his screen, absentmindedly stepping out of the way as a group of girls stumble out of the front door with alcohol sloshing out of their cups. 

_ only because I wouldn’t let him xx _

_ “Harry!”  _

Harry glances up and pushes his phone back in his pocket just as Liam crashes into him, wrapping his beefy arms around him and squeezing him so tight he thinks he hears something pop in his spine. “Happy birthday,” Harry laughs into his shoulder. “You’re choking me.” 

“Sorry,” Liam laughs, pulling away and clapping Harry on the shoulder. “Glad you could make it.” 

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Harry smiles, even though he’d thrown up twice that day because of something shitty he’d eaten yesterday and he bombed the test he took this morning and was seriously contemplating staying in tonight to stare at the ceiling morosely instead of coming here. “So, uh, is - is Zayn here?” 

Liam’s face drops the slightest bit, and Harry instantly regrets asking. Louis and Zayn haven’t been on speaking terms lately, but Liam still invited both of them because he refused to cut things off with either of them. 

“Yeah,” Liam says, rubbing his jaw with his knuckles. “I figured the place is big enough they won’t run into each other, and I’ll know if they do, anyways. Louis’ll probably start chucking bottles at him.” 

“Right. Well, this is for you,” Harry says, pushing the gift bag into Liam’s hands. 

“You didn’t have to-” 

“Don’t be stupid. Plus it’s a joint gift from Niall and I, so don’t feel too bad or anything.” 

“Where is he, by the way? Surprised to see he isn’t glued to your hip.” 

“We’re not codependent, Liam. We’re two perfectly normally functioning adults-” 

“Arguable.” 

“He’s coming later,” Harry says, rolling his eyes, but there’s no heat to it. “Now go get shit-faced.” He pushes at Liam’s shoulder, and Liam gives him one of those crinkly-eyed sunshine smiles that makes him feel guilty for ever considering skipping tonight. 

Big parties are good for keeping Louis and Zayn apart, but it’s also bad for finding people he knows, especially when the number of people he knows there are very low. He sees a girl he recognizes from his sociology class, another one from lit - but nobody he’d feel comfortable striking up a conversation with. 

It’s not like Harry’s a loner, or anything - he’s got plenty of friends, just not the type that are here. It doesn’t help that it seems like no one wants talk to him, either. Once he gets split off from Liam, he ends up standing awkwardly in the corner with a solo cup of something disgusting and pretending to do things on his phone, three feet away from a girl with neon yellow hair who’s texting so rapidly her fingers are nearly a blur. 

He glances at the back door, weighing his options. No one would notice if he just left, least of all Liam. 

A message from Niall pops up. 

_ Well thx prince charming ;) _

Harry stares down at his phone, suddenly grinning like a lunatic. 

“Nice shirt, dude,” someone says, and he snaps his head up to see it’s a guy he recognizes vaguely, wearing nothing but low-slung basketball shorts, a snapback, and a cocky grin. There’s a girl standing slightly behind him, giggling. 

It’s sarcastic, he knows, but Harry’s nothing if not unfailingly polite. “Thanks,” he says slowly, frowning, something shifting in his gut uncomfortably. There’s a prickle of embarrassment as the base of his neck, even though this drunk asswipe’s opinion on a shirt he likes very much doesn’t mean anything, but. 

He escapes the scene as quickly and quietly as possible, ears red. He tries to look down at himself inconspicuously, at his shirt. It’s not ugly. Niall has no qualms about being brutally honest when it comes to his fashion decisions, and if it looked that bad Niall would have told him. Whatever. 

He bumps into someone suddenly, and he stumbles away, an apology ready on the tip of his tongue - until he recognizes the shock of floppy dark hair, the doe eyes. 

“Zayn,” he says dumbly, mind going blank. He’s not sure where they stand, ever since the whole stupid feud started - 

“Hey,” Zayn says flatly, blinking slow. He smells painfully familiar, like stale cigarettes and cheap cologne. He stares at Harry for a moment more, and then slides deftly past him, disappearing into the crowd like he’d never been there at all. 

_ Well _ , Harry thinks, and tries to fight past the way he feels like his gut’s dropped out of his ass.  _ There’s that question answered.  _

Someone else shoves roughly past him without even sparing a glance backwards or a mumbled apology, and it sets something off in him. He doesn’t want to fucking  _ be _ here. Not in the middle of a bunch of drunk strangers, not in the middle of Louis and Zayn’s dumbshit argument. He feels invisible, suddenly, least of all because Zayn’s acting like a complete stranger, like Harry hasn’t spent mornings patting his back while he barfed into the toilet after a night out, like Harry hasn’t paid for his flights back home when money was tight. Like they didn’t know each other inside out until three months ago. 

“I know you have a resting bitch face,” a familiar voice says, “but this one  _ has _ to be on purpose." 

Harry turns to see Niall there, blinking up at him behind his glasses. It’s cliché, and strange, how he forgets about everything bothering him the second he sees his boyfriend, the way all the tension seeps out of his shoulders. A side effect of being in love with him, he supposes. 

“Oh, thank God you’re here.” 

“Why?” Niall replies, pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. He looks gorgeous under the dim lights, his skin just this side of sunburnt, the white shirt Harry picked out for him for his birthday last year fitting his frame perfectly. “Is the party that bad?” 

“Nah, I’m just having a shitty day.” 

“Okay, who told you your shirt was ugly,” Niall says, putting on what Harry supposes he thinks is his most intimidating face. 

“Wait,” Harry frowns. “How did you know-” 

“Mind if I have the rest of that?” Niall says quickly as he nods at Harry’s drink, the corner of his mouth twitching up in a guilty smile. 

Harry holds up a hand, pulling his beer out of Niall’s reach. “Hold on. You think my shirt’s ugly?” 

“I mean. It’s not for everyone, is all I’m saying.” 

_ “Niall.  _ You could’ve at least fucking told me before I came out here and got fucking  _ bullied _ for it.” 

“Sorry, babe. But you know I think you look sexy in anything.” 

Harry pushes his beer into Niall’s hands and watches as he takes a swig, unable to resist smiling. “Fuck you.” 

“Name a time and a place,” Niall replies, deadpan, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Damn. If this is what you’re drinking, no wonder you’re having a shit time.” 

“When did you get here? I didn’t see you come in.” 

“Yeah, you were too busy standing motionless in the middle of the room looking like you were having an existential crisis.” 

“I was  _ not _ .” 

“You were. I just got here a few minutes ago, anyways. Already said hi to Liam.” 

“Did he think your excuse for being late was acceptable?” 

“Labs aren’t an _excuse_ ,” Niall frowns. “And you know how far Hilgard is.” 

“Sorry, sorry.” 

“By the way, was that Zayn I just saw?” 

“Probably,” Harry says, glancing away. “He’s being a dick.” 

“I don’t doubt it,” Niall says airily, which - Harry thought he’d have been more conflicted about it, considering how spacey and weird he’d been after Zayn first began to distance himself. “If he doesn’t wanna associate with us, he can go fuck himself, I guess.” 

“Harsh,” Harry says, the last of the tension in his body disappearing when Niall cracks a smile. His cheeks already hurt with how hard he’s smiling. He probably looks like a lunatic, but honestly he’s just relieved Niall’s here with him. It’s hard facing a bunch of college dudebros on your own, isn’t it. 

Niall pushes his glasses up on his nose again. “Wanna go shotgun a beer?”

 

\---

 

“45 degree angle,” Niall reminds him sternly. “No more, no less.” 

“45. Got it.” 

Niall watches cautiously as Harry slits open the base of the can. “Fold the edges so you don’t cut yourself like last time.” 

“Okay, mom,” Harry mutters, frowning, even though Niall has a point. He’s walked out of a frat party with blood seeping into his mouth more times than he can count on one hand. 

“Now open the-” 

“I can do it myself!” Harry insists - but then he pops the tab, puts the hole to his mouth, and he can’t chug fast enough. The beer starts spilling everywhere, down his chin, soaking his shirt, splattering to the concrete at his feet. 

“You’re shit at this, Harry,” Niall laughs, but in such a tone that if Harry wasn’t listening properly he’d have thought he was complimenting him. “Here - fuck, you’re spilling it  _ everywhere _ .” 

“You’d think,” Harry coughs, gladly relinquishing the can to Niall, “that after four years I’d get the knack of it. Plus I’ve got such a weak gag reflex.” He pauses, pressing a fingertip to his stinging lower lip. It comes back scarlet. “Fuck, I cut my lip.” 

Niall manages to laugh as keeps chugging, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he finishes off the last of it. He drops the empty can to the ground, the clatter of it barely audible over the noise of the party. His lips are slick, and he reaches up and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand just as a chunk of hair begins to droop out of his quiff. He looks good enough to eat, Harry thinks idly. 

“You gonna stand there and stare at me all night?” Niall asks, cocking an eyebrow. 

“I could do other things to you all night.” 

“Always so vulgar,” Niall chides, clucking his tongue, but the look in his eyes tells Harry he wouldn’t mind. 

“We should check if the bathroom is unoccupied. The big, nice one, you know-” 

“Third floor?” 

“That one.” 

“Just to tend to your wounds, of course,” Niall reminds him, the corner of his eyes crinkling up as he grins. 

Harry hovers behind him as they jog up the two flights of stairs to the third floor, nearly slipping and cracking his head open on more than one occasion. 

“It’s because my shoes are wet,” he explains. 

“No, it’s because you’re an idiot.” 

Niall locks the door behind them once they’re inside the bathroom, flicking on the lights. Harry catches sight of himself in the mirror. The glass is strangely pristine for a frat, he notices, but more importantly, his hair is a mess. He pulls it back into a bun, still tasting the blood on his lip and running his tongue along the cut. 

Barely a heartbeat passes between him straightening up and Niall pinning him against the counter. He’s shorter than him by a few inches, but he still manages to crowd him easily as he fits his lips to Harry’s neck, the line of his body flush to his. 

“Straight to business, aren’t you,” Harry gasps out when Niall drops to his knees and starts fumbling with his belt. 

“I’d kiss you, but you’re still bleeding,” Niall says matter-of-factly, pulling his jeans down. “It’s unhygienic.”  

Harry goes to say something, he’s not sure what, but then Niall gets his mouth around him and all his thought processes evaporate. 

“Shit,” he exhales shakily, sinking his fingers into Niall’s hair and struggling to keep his hips still. “Fuck, Niall-” 

It’s over embarrassingly quick, when it comes down to it. He barely manages to let Niall know before he comes, and then Niall’s sitting back on his heels in the too-clean bathroom with a mouth full of Harry’s jizz and a self-satisfied grin plastered on his face. 

They leave the bathroom ten minutes later, after Harry jerks him off and they both wash their hands to get rid of the stickiness from the beer. They both look a mess; Niall with his glasses fogged up and askew, his hair sticking every which way from Harry running his hands through it. Harry doesn’t look any better. 

“Feel like we should start putting tally marks on the wall,” Niall tells him as they go down back down the stairs, passing another couple probably looking for the bathroom they just left. “Seven orgasms and counting, like that.”

“Good idea,” Harry mumbles around a yawn, slinging an arm around Niall’s shoulders. The tension that’s been sitting in the pit of his gut all day has melted away, and he doesn’t know whether it’s because of the blowie or because he’s just spent enough time around Niall tonight. 

“Wanna go up to the roof?” Niall says suddenly, his glasses glinting in the low light. 

“Yeah, why not.” 

 

\---

 

It’s marginally cooler up on the roof, but not by much. There’s a sizable number of people scattered around, their loud laughter echoing through the night air. 

“There’s Lou and El,” Niall says, voice low, shoulder brushing against Harry’s. He follows his gaze to where Louis and Eleanor are playing what seems to be a highly competitive game of foosball. 

“We should go play them,” Harry suggests, glancing over at him. “We’d destroy them.” 

They don’t. They get defeated bitterly, and Louis starts laughing at the look on Harry’s face so hard he ends up on the ground. Harry threatens to pour his drink on him, which gets him moving faster than he’s ever seen him. 

Harry ends up sitting on the edge of the roof, feet dangling in free air. If he leaned over far enough, he’d be able to see the banner hanging off the edge of the second floor balcony that reads  _ HAPPY BIRTHDAY LIAM!!!! _ He’d see the rest of the party spilling out on the front lawn, people he doesn’t know, people he doesn’t like. He’d be able to see Zayn sitting on the curb smoking alone. 

But he can’t, because Niall’s sitting behind him, safely off the edge, with an arm wrapped tightly around Harry’s middle to keep him secure. Even though there’s a slim chance of him actually falling, it’s still a comfort. 

“Niall,” he starts. Niall rests his head against his back. 

He feels more than hears it when Niall speaks, the vibrations of his voice rumbling through his body. “What is it, pet?” 

He thinks about the last time he told Niall how much appreciated him, how much better he makes his days whenever he comes around. Too long, in any case. “I love you.” 

Niall shifts against him, and even though he can’t see him he has a feeling he’s smiling. 

**Author's Note:**

> i'm aware that liam's bday is in august and school isn't in during august, but like. for the plot, u kno?


End file.
